The Edge of Yourself
by Phantom Gypsy
Summary: "You want me to be an insensitive, sadistic jerk like you? Fine." He tore Mello's pants to the ground. "I can play this game. After all, it's the only thing I'm good at, isn't it? Playing games." Language & Suggestive Themes.
1. Numb

**A/N: Woot! And I return to the writing scene! =D  
>So here's a little something - something for the MattxMello peoples. Inspired by a comic I read that explores the...er...darker side to Matt and Mello's relationship. *bites lip* <strong>

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><p>Mello lifted his head and let out a heavy breath that smelled of the bloody vomit he'd been laying in.<p>

"Shit."

Glancing at the concrete and graffiti around him, he recognized the damp alley he stumbled into last night. Now the sun was high enough to pierce through the black leather on his back as he slowly rotted in the backstreet along with the other stinking garbage.

Ignoring the sickening pains in his stomach, he forced himself to roll over onto his back and face the sun. He ran a gloved hand through his soiled blond locks, flinching when his palm scraped against a freshly scabbed wound just above his eyebrow. Blood had dried on his already cracking lips and his jaw was sore from the violent puking marathon that had plagued his sleep.

Reaching down into his skin-tight pockets, Mello searched for his cell, until his leather fingertips brushed against the barrel of his handgun instead. Rolling onto his side, Mello peered down at the gun with frozen eyes as blue as the cloudless sky above him. His free hand delved into his other pocket and retrieved his cell. With his eyes still on the gun, he flipped open the phone and speed-dialed number 1. He picked up after two rings.

"What's up?"

Mello stopped breathing for a moment. His eyes closed, letting that voice resound throughout his broken body. His voice.

"Mello?"

"Hey."

"You ok?"

Mello smiled grimly. He could tell by the new note in Matt's voice that he already knew the answer.

"Come get me. The drug store on the corner." Opening his eyes again, his gaze found the gun.

"Sure. Be there in a sec."

Mello let the phone clatter onto the concrete and wiped the back of his hand across his lips. He weighed the gun in his hand a while longer, letting his long, pale fingers flirt with the black metal of the trigger. The sweat on his temples was beginning to burn into his eyes.

"Fuck."

And he threw the gun into a nearby gutter.

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><p>Matt bit down hard on his cigarette, trying to suck every last ounce of precious nicotine out of the stick. He could already tell that by the time all of this was over, he was going to need several smokes. And maybe a drink.<p>

Mello sat silently in the passenger seat, head bowed and hands motionless in his lap. Matt could hardly believe the condition his friend was in. His face was a mess of dirt and dried blood, his flaxen hair was dark with grease, and his clothes smelled of sewage. Matt knew that as mafia leader, Mello always had the potential to entangle himself in some ugly scenarios. But this one had Matt's stomach in his throat and his fists locked in a death grip on the steering wheel.

He inhaled deeply, letting the warm, blue smoke fill his lungs, then took the cigarette out of his mouth.

"You gonna tell me what the hell happened to you?"

"Not if you're gonna get all pissy about it."

Some of the abrasive edge had returned in Mello's voice. Encouraged, Matt grinned and let his foot fall hard on the gas pedal as he raced through the congested highway.

"Too late. I had to pause a final boss battle to come rescue your ass."

"Didn't have to come get me."

"Right. Like I had much of a choice. You sounded half-dead over the phone."

Mello smirked. "Sounds like a personal problem."

"Yeah. You are."

Despite their bantering, Mello said nothing of his current condition and spent most of the rest of the ride home in silence. Matt glanced out the side of his goggles towards his friend. Even with his tinted vision, Mello looked so pale.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot surrounding their apartment building, Matt was anxious to leave the car. He'd burned through the last of his cigarettes and Mello's subdued behavior was giving him nervous chills. When Mello snapped at his offer to help him up the stairs, Matt watched as his friend slowly staggered inside, relying heavily on the stairway walls to keep him upright.

Once inside the dank little apartment, Matt shut the door behind him, frowning when he heard Mello stumble into the bathroom and collapse in front of the toilet.

The redhead ran a distressed, gloved hand through his hair. _Shit, Mello._

Standing in the doorway of the tiny bathroom, Matt crossed his arms and stared down at his friend.

"Should I be calling an ambulance?"

Mello's head whipped around. "No. Don't." He faced the toilet bowl again. "Everything would show." His breathing hitched and his muscles went into spasm as he noisily dry-heaved into the toilet.

_Drugs. _

Matt's fingers itched for a cigarette. "Did you drink, too?"

Mello fell back against the nearest tile wall, his long legs splayed out across the bathroom floor. His angelic face was drenched in sweat. "Some."

The leather gloves on his hands squeaked as they tightened into fists. "And then you went and picked a fight and got your ass handed to you."

"Shut up."

Disgusted, Matt turned away and walked into the kitchen, his suspicions confirmed. He grabbed one of the chipped glasses from the cabinet and filled it with water, all the while wondering why he even bothered.

Back in the bathroom, Matt handed the glass towards Mello.

"Here. Before you pass out and I have to take you to the hospital anyway."

"I don't want it."

"Take it, Mello."

"I said I don't want it!"

Those violent blue eyes glared up at him from behind tousled, greasy bangs.

"Oh, but you want this?" Matt motioned at the pathetic slump his friend was in. "You want to be doped up and miserable and beaten? Is that it?"

"So what if I do?" Mello shouted back. "If it's what _I_ want, it has nothing to do with you! Now get the fuck out of my face!"

Matt watched his friend rise to his knees, shocked at the feeling of hot tears stinging the back of his throat. Even after all these years of berating, he still wasn't calloused enough to withstand Mello's vicious lashings. Matt had let himself be disillusioned by that angelic face and that pitiful, seething burn scar.

Again.

"It has everything to do with me!" Matt yelled, taking a sudden step into the bathroom. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be rotting in some back alley! If it weren't for me, you would've died in that explosion you set off because you're such a stubborn dumbass! So stop brushing me aside like I don't fucking matter to you!"

The corner of Mello's mouth twitched and something dark flared deep in his sapphire eyes. He stood, meeting Matt's eyes dead on.

"Why?" he sneered. "Oh, I'm sorry. Were you hoping to get something in return for your devotion? Were you hoping that I was going to return your feelings? Hmph. Too fucking bad."

"I'm just trying to—!"

"Then stop fucking trying!"

Mello bashed the glass from Matt's hands and hurled it as hard as he could against the tile walls, grinning darkly when it shattered into pieces across the bathroom. As the shards of glass glittered through the air, Matt lunged, grabbing Mello by the shoulders and shoving him into a wall so hard, his boots left black marks on the floor. Mello grunted and collapsed to the floor, still pinned beneath Matt. Keeping all of his weight pressed against Mello, Matt clutched a fistful of the blonde's hair and pulled. Hard.

"Bastard," Mello spat between clenched teeth.

"Why the hell do you do this to yourself?" Matt's warm breath filled Mello's ear. "Why the hell do you do this to _us_?"

Mello closed his eyes and groaned, achingly aware of the raw power Matt was using to nearly scalp him. Upon hearing the husky sound, Matt pulled back and stared at Mello in disbelief.

"What?" Matt asked. "This is what you want? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Mello said nothing. Summoning his adrenaline-fed strength, he swung his right fist at Matt and punched him hard enough to send him sliding halfway out of the bathroom. The redhead scrambled to his feet and threw the goggles that were hanging haphazardly around his face to the ground. He attacked Mello again and rammed him into the wall a second time, relishing the heavy thud that knocked the wind out of Mello.

"So now what?" Mello glared at his captor, cursing his own weakness.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Matt growled. "You still think I'm nothing!"

"I think you're a dumbass that cares too much!"

"How can I not?" Matt roared. "How can I follow you thousands of miles, save you from your own death, watch you drug yourself to the point of oblivion and not care? Dammit, Mello! And you're too fucked up to even notice! You're too consumed by your own damned inferiority complex!"

"Don't you dare fuck with me, you fucking hypocrite!" The blonde struggled in Matt's grasp. "Especially you! The kid that's so weak he can't sustain his own existence without a gameboy or fucking cigarette! Who's so pathetic and insecure he has to follow someone else's life instead of leading his own!"

Matt tightened his grip on Mello, digging his nails through the leather vest until the blonde squirmed and grunted in pain.

"Bastard!" Mello hissed. "Get the fuck off m—"

Matt grabbed Mello's chin, lifted up, and bit him hard on the lips. Mello writhed and groaned until Matt's oppressive body weight stilled him into submission. With his free hand, Matt ripped off the black vest, and then started to undo the crossties on Mello's leather pants.

"Don't—" Mello tried to stop Matt's hands, but his stronger and taller adversary crossed Mello's forearms and slammed them above his head. He redoubled his efforts, distracted by Matt's plunging southbound hands. "I said don't—!"

Matt dove back in for the scarred skin along Mello's neck.

"I don't care."

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><p><strong>AN: Yes, yes part 2 will be on the way... **

**Also, I think this fic has taken them way out of character: I can't see Matt ever snapping like this, nor can I really see Mello being so self-destructive to this extreme. I much prefer my other 'softer' and 'romantic' fics compared to this one, but I couldn't resist playing with the possibilities. Curious to see which you guys prefer! =) **


	2. A Personal Problem

**A/N: Yes, I changed the title of his fic after I wrote this chapter. You'll see why ^_^**

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><p>Matt could taste Mello's panic as he bit and kissed the tender skin on his neck.<p>

"Fine, then," he growled. "You don't want me to care, then I won't. You want me to be an insensitive, sadistic jerk like you? Fine." He tore Mello's pants to the ground. "I can play this game. After all, it's the only thing I'm good at, isn't it? Playing games?"

He reached down the front of Mello, ignoring his friends clawing attempts to make him stop, and dived into his black briefs. The wordless, breathy groan that escaped Mello's lips empowered Matt, fueling a dark, explosive craze that was raging somewhere deep within.

With each passing moment, Mello found it harder and harder to fight against Matt's ruthless hand. Panting hard, he still tried to free his interlocked wrists from his other—if less pleasurable—impossibly strong grip.

"You…fucking…bastard…"

Matt caught a glimpse of that cold, ice blue glare. "You have no idea," he growled.

In one swift move, he spun Mello around towards the bathroom wall, grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed him forward, relishing the disapproving snarl that came from Mello. While the blonde braced himself against the wall, Matt brought his hands back to Mello's narrow waist and embedded his nails deep into his skin.

"Don't tell me this isn't what you want," Matt breathed into Mello's ear, pausing to bite and sip on it now and then, making Mello shudder. "You always push the limit. You always wanted someone to tell you 'no.'"

He started to unzip his own pants.

"You always dared them to defy you. To say, 'enough. Stop.'"

A lush kiss on Mello's scarred shoulder.

"Because you don't know how to stop."

Mello's strangled shout as the last of his clothing is torn from his body.

"You don't know how to control. Or be controlled. But you want to."

The sinful, intoxicating touch.

"Because if you don't—"

Matt's burning body melded against his.

"—what's to keep you from going over the edge of yourself? From the edge of death?"

Mello couldn't breathe. The sweat was dripping from the tips of his hair and his knees were buckling with each of Matt's debilitating hand strokes. Every inch of his body felt as though it were mapped with live wires and Matt had cruel control of each one. The combination of sheer hatred for allowing himself to be so controlled and the pure sexual greed that overshadowed that hatred was like having electricity in his blood. Incapable of thought or composure, Mello finally gave in.

Matt could feel the fight leave Mello. He could finally turn all of his attention to Mello's aching arousal. With one hand he stroked and fondled, while the other stealthily slid down his own boxers.

Matt closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of his best friend. He regretted his decision to remain practically fully clothed now that his shirt was sticking to his sweaty chest. His hair was drenched, the hollow of his neck glistening with perspiration and his own arms were fatigued from supporting nearly all of Mello's weight. But that dark, deep rage cried for more.

_So pathetic and insecure he has to follow someone else's life instead of leading his own! _

Matt waited until Mello was just on the brink, when his throaty groans turned into shouts of ecstasy and he could feel something warm and wet trickle down his fingers.

Matt's brutal penetration bucked Mello into the tile wall, making him yell as a lightning bolt of pain zinged up his spine. Biting down hard, Mello stifled his urge to scream bloody murder at the ceiling and tried to focus on staying conscious. Pain was quickly replaced by the exhilaration of feeling Matt inside of him and listening to his staggered breathing as he gathered himself. Mello turned his head to look behind him, but the moment was short-lived. Matt grabbed a handful of Mello's hair and pulled hard. His other hand cupped the underside of his neck. The two boys exchanged a brief sideways glance at each other, listening to the other's heavy breathing for one, still moment.

Matt blinked, wondering why, as he stared into those fierce blue eyes, he had the sudden urge to cry.

Then, Mello said,

"A personal problem."

Grinning, Matt closed his eyes and released Mello enough to glide the softest of kisses across his lips.

"Yeah. I know."

They collapsed to the floor in a heaving, panting mess, the bathroom tiles slick with their aftermath. Mello was on all fours with Matt on top, his shaking arms still tightly wrapped around Mello's torso as the last of the convulsions left his body. After counting the heartbeats he could feel through Mello's back and watching the sweat drip from their bangs for several minutes, Matt asked,

"Still conscious?"

"No."

Matt nodded and slowly began to pull away, wincing every time Mello jerked in pain. Once he had removed himself from Mello, he gently laid his limp friend down on the floor, zipped up his pants and sat back against the toilet. The silence made his skin crawl. Glancing at Mello, still facedown on the floor, he thought how the scene looked eerily similar to a murder. There were even a few veins of blood staining the floor.

"It's a good thing I didn't."

Matt frowned at Mello, somewhat grateful he could only see his friend's backside. "What?"

"In the alley…I came so close to that edge. Closer than I've ever been. You pulled me back. It's always you."

Matt's eyes softened. "Well, duh. If I didn't, where would that leave me? I can't live without you, remember?"

"Hmph. Idiot."

The redhead grinned and combed his hand through his hair.

_Well_, he thought, _it's better than being nothing._

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><p><strong>AN: Yay! I'm always impressed by how much of this is never planned out in my head and then so much actually gets written. I am planning on a part 3 as we speak; the final installment so as to have a proper beginning, middle, and end. **

**Thanks so much for being such awesome readers! As always, curious to know what you think & critique is always encouraged! =D**


	3. Beautiful, Burned

Matt came in through the door with a sagging plastic bag in his right hand and the usual smoking cigarette dangling from his lips. Their dingy little one-room apartment was a strange place to call home, with its cavernous cracks in the walls, decrepit, mismatched furniture and moldy curtains that resembled Swiss cheese. They shared it with the occasional kitchen roach or bathtub spider that Matt would then have Mello come and squash for him, usually with an irritated scolding that sounded much like, "Dammit Matt, it's just a spider. Grow a pair."

Mello, he noticed, hadn't moved far from the couch all day. He was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa and staring at the floor, no doubt still recovering from the previous day. Wearing only a tight pair of black pants and a black tank shirt that left his midriff exposed, it was the most unceremonious he'd seen Mello in a long time.

Matt threw his keys on the kitchen countertop and extinguished his cigarette in the makeshift ashtray made out of a rusty, old coffee can. If nerves were audible, then his would be sounding off like firecrackers. The surreal memory of last night was fresher in his mind than he would've liked. Every time he closed his eyes, he could still taste Mello, hear the pained cries echoing in the small bathroom and still see the shattered glass on the floor. Bag still in hand, he walked over to Mello and stood in front of him.

"Hey." Mello leaned his head back on the couch and said nothing. "You ok?"

Mello rolled his eyes. "I swear to God, Matt, if you ask me one more time I'm gonna punch you in the face."

Grinning, Matt let the bag fall to the floor before sitting down across from his friend. "All right, all right. No need to get so butt hurt."

Matt couldn't help but smile at his horrible pun, but Mello gave him the longest, most unimpressed look. "Dumbass," he muttered.

They sat in silence for a few moments. Mello went back to staring at some far-off galaxy painted on the floor and Matt fiddled with the handles of the bag, already starting to crave another cigarette.

"Mel, I'm sorry." Mello barely shifted his eyes under those golden bangs. "I didn't mean for last night to happen the way it did."

"I did."

Matt held his friend's gaze for what seemed like forever. Those striking sapphires spelled out so much more than Mello would ever say. So much struggle and pain and scarring that no one would ever see. Unless, maybe, they wore an eccentric pair of orange goggles.

Matt turned himself around and laid down so his head was resting in Mello's lap. He could feel his bony hips, his slender, strong stomach as soft and white as pearls. He breathed in Mello's scent; a mix of leather and motorcycle fuel and a hint of cocoa that you could smell in an opened wrapper.

He looked up at Mello, frowning at the beautiful sorrow that darkened his face.

"What is it?"

Mello shook his head and closed his eyes, lips drawn tight against whatever confessions he held. Matt reached out for one of Mello's limp hands and took it, intertwining their fingers together. To Matt's surprise, Mello not only let him, but gently squeezed his hand in return.

"You know what your problem is?" Matt asked softly, still weaving his fingers between Mello's. The older boy stayed quiet. "Angels aren't meant to thrive on earth."

He felt Mello's breath catch and then noticed the slow crushing of his hand as Mello tightened his grip until his knuckles were white.

_Dammit, Matt. How do you know? How can you see that I won't be here much longer? How do you know I don't want to be here? _

"But the bigger problem, " Matt said, a small grin on his face as he reached inside the grocery bag with his other hand, "is that you haven't had one of these in a while."

He held up a perfectly wrapped chocolate bar to Mello's nose. When Mello was convinced he could breathe again without drowning Matt in a flood of tears, he took the candy bar with a ghostly smile on his lips. But as soon as he took it from Matt, the redhead pulled another one out of the bag.

"Or two." Another one. "Or three." Another one. "Or four, five, six thousand."

Before Mello knew what was happening, Matt was emptying the bag of twenty or so chocolate bars above their heads. Opening his eyes after the somewhat painful rain shower of chocolate, Mello gave Matt, who looked quite pleased with himself, a lighthearted scowl.

No sooner had Mello taken his first bite, then Matt smiled and said,

"So…you gonna be ok?"

"Matt! Ugh, you fucking—!"

Mello swung back his free arm and threw a punch before Matt could escape, nailing him in the side of the head.

"Ow! Ok, I got it! Mello! Cut it out! Ow!"

Matt threw himself as far away as he could, dragging a few chocolate bars in his wake as he slid along the floor. On all fours, he ripped off the goggles that were hanging haphazardly around his face and looked back at his friend. Mello bit into one of the chocolate bars and tried to hide his face behind a curtain of blonde hair, but not before Matt caught a glimpse of the answer he was looking for.

A beautiful, burned smile.

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>


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